Delicious Temptation
by Little Miss Juliet
Summary: He'll kill his own mother to make it out alive, and do almost everything else to make it to the top. After all...X marks the spot, no? :: Rating may change
1. Prolouge: Shards

"Casey? Casey?!" A boy, roughly fifteen, sixteen at most, lounged on his bed, oblivious to the female voice that was calling him through a speaker. He twisted one of the rows on a Rubik's cube before proceeding to twist a column. He started at the now completed puzzle, all six faces each one color. He sighed and began mixing up the cube again to start over.

"CASEY DREW DEVERS!" The now shrill female voice yelled over in intercom. Casey rolled him eyes. He ever so slowly took him time in place the Rubik's cube on his nightstand, rolling onto his stomach and pressing the small red button that allowed him to reply.

"Yes mother?" He asked in a bored tone, his chocolate brown hair flopping roguishly down in front of his right eye.

"GET DOWN HERE THIS **INSTANT**!" The static let out a high pitched squeal that made Casey flinch.

"Yes ma'am. Whatever you say ma'am," Casey complied, releasing the button, "psychotic bitch...I swear if there weren't photos, I never would've guess _she_ was my mother." He sighed and sat up. He trudged down the stairs, picking off some of the white paint at the top. For the last year or so, Casey had been slowly picking off the paint off the underside of the top of the railing. Currently, it was just a blob. He then proceeded down the rest of the stair case where his mother was waiting for him, arms crossed and her left foot tapping a slow beat that was in sync with the old Grandfather clock that was standing next to him.

"Yes mother?"

"WHAT IN HEAVENS NAME IS THIS?!" his mother shrieked, holding up a sheet of paper, which Casey recognized as his mid-quarter grade report. He saw nothing wrong. All A's, of course. There was nothing wrong, so he took a closer look.

_East Valley High School Mid-Term Progress Report_

_Student: Casey D. Devers, Class: Sophmore _

_Pre-Calculus/Finance Algebra - 100_

_English 11 Honors - 100_

_AP Physics - 100_

_AP World Economics - 100_

_Advanced Studio Art A - 100_

_AP French 3 - 99.97_

Casey sighed, eying the almost perfect grade. Damn his perfectionist mother. Damn her.

"You have a niney-nine in French, young man. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Je m'excuse la plus sincèrement chère mère. J'essaierai plus dur pour accomplir des qualités parfaites," he replied, his pronunciation flawless and his accent sexy to a point where he would have most girls swooning. However, his mother was nowhere near "most girls," so...

"Je ne m'attends à rien moins," was her curt response, he accent and pronunciation also perfect. Casey nodded. "You are dismissed," his mother said coldly, "I expect to see a one-hundred percent the next time I am shown your grades."

"Oui madame. Évidemment madame," Casey said, his hazel eyes averting his gaze to the floor. His mother nodded, finally satisifed, and walked away, she sharp, four inch stilettos clicking against the smooth, hard wood oak floor.

_"Clak, clak, clak, clak..."_ went his mother's shoes. Casey turned back to the stairs made his way to his haven. Once back up in his room, Casey closed the door behind him. He walked over to his bed and pulled of his shirt. Tossing it to the ground, he lifted his covers and burried himself under the safety of his blankets, covering himself in the rose-smelling sheets. Though it was only three in the afternoon on a Saturday, he managed to curl himself into a ball like he did when he was younger and let the darkness of the layers of cloth drown him with no intentions of resurfacing.

* * *

A/n: Two things: 1) Casey is a LOT more angsty than I planned, and 2) BAD MISTY! This is the what - Third? Fourth maybe - story that I've started. I really do plan on getting far in this one. If I'm lucky, I'll finish it. I'm out for the holidays with a two week break. I'm actually REALLY excited about this one.

Anywho, this is basically MY interpretation on how Red-X (via Season 3 and so on) came to be. And no, he's NOT Jason Todd (a.k.a. Robin eye-eye/II/2) because I said so! I know Jason's the popular non-Robin Red-X, but for this, he's not....so HA!

The French was translated via an online translator. Here's what they mean in English:  
_"I apologize most sincerely dear mother. I shall try more hard to achieve perfect grades."  
"I expect nothing less."  
"Yes ma'am. Of course ma'am."_

Hope you enjoyed!

In the next chapter: the REAL story begins (dun dun duuuuun...)


	2. A Walk on Glass

_"Robin! Is it true that you and your team fought off Brother Blood?" a woman asked, holding her microphone out ot Robin eagerly._

_"Yes it is," he replied simply. The interveiwer didn't seem very satisifed with his short answer._

_"Is is true that one of your own went undercover at the H.I.V.E. Academy to trick Blood into giving them secret information?" a different reporter asked, male this time._

_"What will happen with your situation with Blood?"_

_"Will one of your team members go out to hunt him down?"_

_"Is Red-X behind the brainwashing?" Robin rasied an eyebrow._

_"Now what does Red-X have to do with this?" he asked, only to be ambushed with more questions._

_"Who is Red-X?"_

_"Is he dead?"_

_"Sources say that you were Red-X!"_

_"Where is he now?"_

_"What about-?"_

Casey shut off the television and watched the screen snap to black. He glanced at the newpaper that had been brought in by Steeve, the butler.

_TITANS SETBACK MENACING GENIUS, BROTHER BLOOD ESCAPES_

The article took up half the page (not including the rather too-large-for-Casey's-tastes snapshot of the team) and continued on page B6...not that he cared anyway. Standing up, Casey walked over to his desk and sat back down. Opening his notebook where he wrote down his assignments, he sighed and pulled out a pencil. He crossed off "page 507, problems 1-7 odd and 26-42 even" and "four three-point parallel thesis statements" from his list. He scanned the rest of it and let his eyes fall on his French assignment: _sweet talk teacher into boosting me up 0.03 percent_, it read and was already crossed out because he had accomplished that last week. Casey smirked. His French "teacher," Madame Rosaline was a fresh out of collage graduate...and an early graduate at that. She was nineteen years old, native to France, an exchange student, and was teaching high school level French for a living.

He didn't blame her though, for falling for his "sweet talk,"any girl that was in a five year age range (and straight of course) fell for it too, and even some gay men. A smile, casually run his finger through his hair, and a casual-yet-sexy "hello" usually did the trick. Sometimes he'd have to wink, or fan a couple hundred dollar bills for the gold-diggers, but other than that, he could chit-chat his way into anything. Not only that, he also had ridiculously fast relexes. Casey opened his currently closed hand to reveal Rosaline's turquoise ring. He'd return it later of course, but he just wanted to see if he could take it without her noticing...and the proof that he could was sitting in his palm. He closed his fist around it before placing it on his desk.

"Casey! Venez cet instant ici! J'ai le club de Lady me rencontrant dans la demi-heure et je m'attends à ce que vous soyez dans la porte dans cinq minutes en portant seulement votre meilleur!"his mother barked through the intercom. Casey sighed. Ever since his 99.97 in Fench, his mother had decided to speak to him in _only_ French until his less that prefect grade was fixed. He was going to talk to Rosaline next time he had her class, but that wasn't enough for his dear mother. Nothing ever was.

"Oui maternent, évidemment la mère ... n'importe quoi pour vous materne," he replied, releasing the button. "Psycho bitch...or shall I say, 'Chienne de Psycho'?" He chuckled at himself and then prepared to make himself presentable for _Madame._

* * *

Exactly four minutes and fifty-nine seconds later, Casey was downstairs, suited up in dress pants and a blazer, holding his mother's sequined purse while she adjusted her mink fur wrap. Casey shifted his weight from one foot to the other as she messed around with the shawl. In addition to her rather ridiculous and somewhat tacky outfit that consisted of a pale blue, sleeveless shirt and matching skirt that were both rimmed with a yellow lace trim, she decided she needed some head wear and selected a rather obnoxious feathered hat that had a pair of doves placed upon it.

"Casey!" his mother snapped, "Ma porte-monnaie," she requested. Rather, she demanded it. Casey slipped the handle of her purse onto her gloved hand and she narrowed her eyes before turning on heel and headed out the door, which the butler had opened right before she got to it. Casey trailed after her, trying to keep a pleasent expression on his face. The butler's own expression didn't change as Casey walked out the door and the butler closed the door behind him.

Casey approached the car and the driver opened the car door for him. He slid in, sitting himself on the leather seat next to his mother. Only the arm rest-slash-cup holder between them.

"La maison de Romilda," his mother instructed the driver. Casey rolled his eyes. Now the people enslaved by his mother had to use French too? Talk about obsessive...

"Don't tell me the people at your stupid club will be forced to speak in French..." Casey muttered.

"Oh, et Casey..." his mother said. Casey looked at her.

"Oui mère?" he asked.

"Romilda a demandé si je peux vous présenter à sa fille, Hermione. J'ai dit que vous seriez ravis de rencontrer sa jolie fille," she told him. Her voice was laced with ice. This was no request either. It was an order. He had no choice but to agree.

"Évidemment mère. Je serais sur joyed pour rencontrer Hermione," he said, hoping this Hermione girl was pretty. His mother wore a smug look on her face as the car turned into the driveway that belonged to his mother's "dear, dear friend" Romilda Ranchoff. The driver pulled up to the front gate and stopped the car. He got out before opening the door on his mother's side and helping her out. Then she came around and opened the door on Casey's side, who stepped out onto the gravel and looked up at the large house-slash-castle that towered, almost loomed, in front of him, in a way, trying to intimidate him. It was nothing new. Romilda's house just a foot or so shorter than his.

A woman suddenly appeared at the front door, clad in a pink suit jacket and a skirt to match. Like his mother's, her outfit was lined with lace as well, only this lace was white.

"Prudy darling!" the woman exclaimed.

"Romilda!" Casey's mother and her friend went to meet each other at the bottom of the steps. They embraced and exchanged "air kisses." All Casey heard was "muwa, muwa!"

Romilda peered around Prudence to take a look at Casey.

"So this must be your dashing boy Casey!" she smiled with sappy and sugar-coated affection at him, "Hermione is very excited to meet you, you know. She's been talking about it all morning." Casey nodded and faked a large grin.

"I've been looking forward to meeting her as well, Mrs. Ranchoff," he said. Romilda clapped.

"Oh this is just wonderful! Both of you please come inside! Kelly is already here! She arrived just before you did Prudy! And so is Sarina! You remember Sarina Wilkins, don't you? Oh I'm sure you will get along wonderfully! And Gertrude! Dearest Gertrude!" Romilda kept up her rambling as she ushered Casey and his mother inter her house and into the parlor. As Casey was about to fallow his mother into the parlor where three other women were slready seated and having tea, Romilda placed a hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

"Hermione is upstairs in her room, Casey," she said. Casey was about to speak when noises of delight came from the parlor. The three women and his mother were happily embracing each other in greeting, and loudly at that. Casey turned away from the scene and looked back at Romilda.

"Yes ma'am," he replied.

"Don't hurt her, Casey," she told him. Despite him being a good four inches taller than her, he still felt imtimidated as she stared at his retreating back as he climbed the stairs to Hermione's room. Once he reached the top step, he looked around, trying to see which door could lead him to Hermione's room.

He approached one door and was prepared to knock when the door across the hall opened to reveal a teenage girl.

She was wearing an A-line, strapless, power blue dress (Casey noted that blue was evidently popular these days) that was scrunched at the bust and had a white rose attached over her right breast. She also wore simple, white shoes and a gold, heard-shaped locket that hung from a delecate chain from around her neck. In her blonde hair that was styled into a loose bun, there was a lavender ribbon weaved into her curls. Two ringlets of her hair hung down to frame her face. She also had blue, almost violet eyes. Pretty indeed.

"Hello," she said softly. Her voice was like a light, tinkling bell. "I'm Hermione Ranchoff." She curtsied. Casey stared at her. Alrighty then...

"Hello Ms. Ranchoff. I am Casey Devers," he bowed a little. Hermione straightened up.

"Oh please, call me Hermione," she said. Casey nodded.

"Of course Ms. Hermione." This time, she giggled.

"Just 'Hermione,' Mr. Devers," she replied. Casey eyed the girl.

"Yes...Hermione," he said. She smiled at him.

"Pleasure to meet you," she said, holding out her hand with the intensions to shake him.

"The pleasure's all mine," he replied, taking her hand. However instead of shaking it like he knew she was expecting, he kissed the top of her hand lightly, earning a quick intake of breath from Hermione, who had a light pink blush spread across her face.

* * *

Roughly five hours later and Casey and his mother had returned home, Casey went straight to his room. Lying down on his bed, he stared up at the ceiling, thinking about the day's events.

"Hermione is a nice girl," his mother said, her voice mixed with static from the intercom. I must say Casey, you must have done a good job with your behavior." Casey turned to his side and pushed the reply button.

"Yes, she is. Good night mother." He was greeted with the sound of static as his mother's reply. He turned back to face the ceiling.

"A very nice girl indeed," he repeated to himself, opening his palm to reveal Hermione's shining, gold locket.

* * *

A/n: No this won't turn into a Red-X/OC (Hermione) fic seeing that I don't really like cannon characters and OC's to be together...but there will be some Red-X/Hermione in furture chapters...just because. Red-X, or in my case, Casey, doesn't seem like the kind of boy that would go through his teen years single for long periods of time. Plus, I kind of like the idea. I sort of stole Hermione's look from the Hermione in Romeo x Juliet. In fact, she might as well be a modern day rendition of the R x J Hermione.

Anywho, next chapter is when Casey begins to contemplate his abilities and reflexes and how he might be able to use them.

p.s. When Hermione is mentioned in this, I imagine it as pronounced "Her-my-own-ee" instead of "Her-my-nee" like Hermione Granger in the Harry Potter series.

Now I'm going to stop being the author's note before it becomes longer than the chapter itself.


	3. Like a Knife

Casey breezed through the school's hallway easily. His pace was quick enough to get to class on time, yet his appearance and reputation still caused a few people to stop and stare at him as he sauntered down the hall. One hand in his pocket of the school jacket he wore and his other hand had a loose grip on his Calculus binder. His right palm squeezed two things that were in his jacket pocket: Hermione's locket and Rosaline's ring. The end on the heart-shaped locket was being pressed into his flesh. He knew that was going to leave a mark later for his mother to chasitse him about. However, he didn't care, becuase at the moment, he was heading for room 207. French class.

"Ms. Rosaline?" Casey asked, tapping lightly on the classroom door. The woman looked up, her dark curls moving ever so slightly as she did so.

"Ah, Casey! Hello!" she greeted him, her French accent weaving into her words. She placed the pen down on her desk and sat upright, giving him her undivided attention.

"Ms. Rosaline, you see I found this the other day outside, and I was wondering if it was yours," he said, pulling the ring out of his pocket. Rosaline's expression changed from content to relieved.

"Oh Casey! I 'ave been looking for zis everywhere!" She put a hand on her desk to steady herself. Casey just faked a 'you're very welcome' smile and placed the ring into her open palm.

"I'm very glad I could return it to you," he replied as she slipped the ring onto her finger.

"Oh I must reward you somehow!" Bingo. Casey smiled again.

"Ms. Rosaline, you don't have to do anything for me!" he said, faking a shocked look. Ms. Rosaline shook her head.

"Oh but I must! I do not know vat I could geeve you in return...oh! I see zat you 'ave less that a perfect grade! I could rasie zat up eef you like!" Casey, once again, faked a smile.

"That would be wonderful Ms. Rosaline! I would like that." Rosaline smiled.

"I vill do zat zen! Good bye Casey! I vill see you tomorrow!" He waved slightly.

"See ya'." Then he turned and headed for room 104, which was Calculus.

Mission accomplished.

* * *

"Obviously, some of you failed to remember basic skills from Algebra and geometry," Mr. Sils huffed as he passed out the tests from last week. From what Casey could see, every paper was just swimming in red marks. The highest grade he had seen so far was barely a C. Mr. Sils placed Casey's test in front of him, face down. Casey turned it over.

97.5

The rather, fat, oily and obnoxious kid, Billy Evans, that sat behind him, peeked over his shoulder. His jaw dropped and he snatched Casey's test out of his hands.

"He's a cheat! There's now way this fag got this high of a grade!"Billy shouted. Casey grabbed his test back as well as Billy's with in-human speed.

"Well there's no way a senior got this _low_ of a grade!" Casey flashed the test in front of Billy and then showed it to the rest of the class.

12.7

Some people whispered. Other people ignored him.

Then the whole class burst out into peals of laughter. Billy grew red and tore his test from Casey with his clamy hands. Casey just smirked and sat back down, facing his teacher who was rolling his eyes.

"Like I was SAYING!" Mr. Sils yelled over his students who instantly quieted, "we'll have to do some reveiw today. Anyone who got a B or high can take a nap, work on other things, do homework or whatever. As long as you're quiet." Casey, along with a few other people, took out other assignments from various classes, earning jealous glares from everyone else. The other B-or-high students gave out apologetic glances. Casey, however, pulled Hermione's locket out from his jacket and stared at it.

_I wonder how long it will be...before she notices that it's gone..._

* * *

Later that day, the driver was opening the door for Casey, who quickly went inside and up to his room, where he flopped onto his bed.

"School with be the end of me," he groaned.

"CASEY!" His mother's voice barked through the intercom.

"If she isn't..." he muttered. Then he his the reply button. "Yeah?"

"Don't use that casual tone with me," his mother ordered, "I see you have a perfect grade in French."

"Yes ma'am."

"Good. Keep it that way."

"Yes ma'am." He rolled onto his back and undid his tie. He fingered the navy and gray material before tossing it aside. He stared at the blank ceiling. Life, was boring. He was...well, bored. He took out Hermione's locket once again and stared at it. He noticed even though he had stolen it a week ago, he had never opened. His fingers made quick work of it and the locket popped open easily.

It was empty.

Where two pictures could've been, all he saw was a slightly deformed, gold-tinted reflection of himself. He snapped the locket shut and switched on the television that was propped on the wall. Some music video came into veiw and Casey turned to his just lovely homework, listening to some teeny-bopper pop to help him blur out the pain that was the ENGLISH HOMEWORK OF DOOM!

He worked diligently, moving on from his English to Physics and eventually back to English. An extra cerdit assignment:

_"Write a one-page paper on why you would rather be a villain or a hero. Explain why."_

"Villain. Most definitly," he murmered to himself. _You can do anything you want, even things that are illegal, and no one will be surprised._ His little insight suprised himself. He was a good kid, really. A bit rebelious here and there. Also a bit of a snob...somewhat vain too...but Casey never found himself on the wrong side of the street. He stayed away from all alleyways and anyone that gave him chills just by one glance.

Casey fingered the delicate chain of Hermione's locket. What did this locket mean? It was in his hand...he had stolen something from someone he knew, and it wasn't the first time. Did this make him bad? No. It made him _special _with his abnormally fast reflexes and ability to lie without a small voice in the back of his mind telling him it was wrong. He sneered at the thought. Then his expression faded into one that displayed a mix between curiosity, awe and disgust.

_I'm going to return Hermione's locket to her_, he decided, _tonight._

* * *

A/n: Blarg. Not my best. I left it off at a bit of a cliffy...I wrote this in a bit of a rush because today's my last day of winter break! (Noooo!) So back to school I go for a 2nd semester and Mum's making me work harder...I promise I'll update once a week (probably Sundays) and that I WILL finish this story.

Toodles!  
-Misty


	4. Cut The Air With That Blade Called Nerve

Slipping on a black, long-sleeved shirt, Casey studied himself in a mirror. First word that came to mind:

NINJA!

He snickered at himself. All black attire? Check. Black, non-squeaky shoes? Check. Lock pick? Check. Mask? Check. Gloves? Check. Hermione's locket? Check. Casey glanced up at his hair, the only thing anyone could ever recognize him by. Maybe a hat....a ski cap? Nah. He glanced at his bedroom door. Walking over to it, he opened it enough so he could easily see down the hall to the stairs and then over to his mother's closed door where sounds of his not-so-quiet slumber were emitted. He closed his own door and for a moment, slumped against it.

_This is wrong. _

Three words. Eleven letters. One meaning: you are going against everything you know, were taught, and currently believe in. To that, he had two reactions.

Casey's rational side: STOP! Stop it RIGHT NOW! Stop this madness while you're ahead!

Casey's rebellious side: Woo-hoo! Go out there and actually have FUN! Break some rules! And maybe some hearts whlie you're at it, eh?

Casey pushed himself off the door and headed for the window. He pushed it up as slowly and as quietly as he could. No sounds was made except the small _swish_ of his movements. A good sign. He slid the window open the rest of the way. Poking his head out, he could feel the cool breeze ever-so-slightly gracing against his skin. He took a deep breath and continued out of his room.

"Left arm, left leg," he murmered to himself, "swing right left over...right left, right arm..." Casey's pulse quickened. Bracing himself, he managed to keep his grip with his left hand steady on the edge of the window sill and then reached up with his right arm to slowly close it. Then he fumbled around in his pocket for the key that locked his window, placed it in the keyhole and turned it. It locked with a small _click_ and Casey let out the breath he had been holding.

Then he slowly made his decent down the trellis, trying to be as light as possible so he wouldn't rip the ivy vines his mother liked to show off. Finally, when he was a good jumping distance from the ground, he dropped, metting the grass on all fours like a cat. Then he stood, lightly brushed himself off and ducked into the shadows.

* * *

Now he was running. Out of the corner of his eye, he was houses, fancy cars and large, green hedges, only slightly paying attention to those things. It was roughly 11:00 and completely dark. It was pitch black outside and the only light came from the faint glow of the stars. However, even they were covered by a cover of gray clouds. Casey had run along way. Hermione's home was a good half-dozen blocks away from his, even though it was only a ten minute drive by limo...five on Sundays because of light traffic and only after the local curch service was over.

Finally, he had reached his destination. 24 Pickett Way, home of James, Romilda, and Hermione Ranchoff. He walked up to the gate. It couldn't be open. That'd be way to easy. He tried it anyway and it swung open like an unlocked door. He glared at the barrier and then walked right in. Making his way around the various rose bushes, statues and mini fountain, he approached the house, which looked even bigger at night. He looked around for a ladder of some sort. He walked around to the back of the house, hoping for better luck there. His gaze darted around a bit before it settled on a small extention of the large mansion. Casey tiptoed to a window and peered inside. Plants and flowers greeted him. They were in pots, vases and hanging from the ceiling. He stepped away from the green house. Directly four above it, he noticed, was a series of four windows, maybe five or six feet apart from each other. And what luck! Right below the windows was a plank of wood that was being held up by pillars!

Bingo.

He studied the green house. Taking an estimate, it was probably ten feet high or so. He went to one of the windows. He noticed it was also unlocked like the front gate. He carefully manuvered his way inside. He looked around and saw a ladder that led up to a door that was evidently on the roof. Was it just him, or did the house _want_ Casey to do this? He shrugged to himself and began his accent up the ladder. When he reached the top, he noticed the door that led up to the roof was locked. Not surprising. He reached for his set of lock picks and easily popped open the door. He hoisted himself up and out of the green house and onto the roof. He managed to climb onto the plank that was below the windows and crawled along it. He looked inside the first one. Ne couldn't see anything. He pressed his ear to the window.

He heard a woman giggle and then groan in pleasure.

"Oh yes," she said.

"Keep going baby," a man replied.

Casey quickly drew back. Then he suddered, rather disturbed, and crawled along the plank, trying to push the thought of Hermione's parents making love out of his mind. He then came to the next window and prayed that he wouldn't find anything else...well, disturbing.

The sight of a desk, computer and office chair greeted him, along with book shelves and a large globe. Disappointed and somewhat relieved, he crawled to the next one only to find some exercise machines and one of those yoga balls. Finally crawling to the last window, he fond was he was looking for.

A sleeping Hermione was curled up in bed. Next to her bed, was a night stand with a book, water glass and an alarm clock. He checked the window. It was already open, presumably to let in some of the spring air. Opening it further, he slid easily inside her room. He slinked around in the shadows a bit, searching for the best spot to return the locket. Desk? Nope. Dresser? Uh how 'bout not? The...mirror thing? A...vanity, right? _Get to know female furniture damnit!_ Maybe. The night stand was too obvious, he decided.

_Vanity it is then!_ he thought, lightly making his way towards it and carefully placed it next to a bottle of purfume. Very quietly, he went back to the window and exited the way he came, only pausing when Hermione shifted in her sleep. Returning the window to its original position (a half inch above the sill) and made his decent back to the safety of the soft grass that awaited him on the ground.

Landing once again like a cat, he disappeared into the shadows once more and came out on the other side of the Ranchoff gate. Feeling extremely satisfied, he rushed back home. Scrambling back up to his own window, he unlocked it, quickly undressed, shoved his "ninja" outfit under his bed and burrowed under his covers.

His heart was still pounding wildly and the adrenaline was still pulsing madly through his body.

_What a rush! _was his final thought before his eyes slowly closed, blurring out the digital, red numbers on his alarm clock.

It was almost one a.m.

* * *

A/n: Thus ends Casey/Red-X's first unofficial "break in!" Wow that was fun to write....and it wasn't all dialogue either! YAY!

Hm...I AM aware that what Casey does 70% of the time is going against a standard moral code, but then again, he is basically Red-X, or at least, my version of him. And if anything, Red-X knows that what he's doing is against the law, but he does it anyway, no? But then again, he's Red-X.

Can't argue there!

Sorry for the long-ish wait. School's a bitch some times...actually, biology's a bitch, but that's besides the point. Cough.

_Next chapter: Casey wants more of that rush. That rush is going to start turning into a drug for him. And he'll do anything to get that feeling again...another plan starts forming in his head...and he'll fallow through with it...even if it means hacking and breaking into one of the most respected places he knows: Titans' Tower._


End file.
